Regret Nothing
by Zaria
Summary: A/U B/V. Bulma is a healer ancient Japanese who is constantly running away from her past. She may have to learn the hard way people don’t give up easily and that ‘Bad (and self-destructive) habits die hard and not to play spy in a three way war. No S
1. Only Morning

~* Regret Nothing*~  
  
By Zaria  
  
"Sometimes I feel like a cat among tigers"  
  
-Katherine Mansfield  
  
Chapter One: Only Morning  
  
I listen to the sound of voices outside my window, the words indistinct but the hastiness unmistakable. The clatter of hooves and sound of metal on stone gives the fact that horses, no doubt harnessed to carts, are present. A few moans uttered from wounded soldiers as they are hurriedly moved from the carts, in to the house and away from their dead comrades.  
  
I shudder at the thought of what condition these men are in and the fact that I will have to aid in healing them. I don't like healing; I don't understand how anyone could. But I will, for bed, board and food I will.  
  
After about an hour and a half of the ominous sounds carrying effortless over the moon-less night I drift into an uneasy sleep for the pure sake of having enough energy to get out of bed tomorrow.  
  
~*~  
  
"Bulma-chan, pay attention, your dressing that wound incorrectly." Izamami broke through my trance of thinking about the nightmares of the life that I used to live.  
  
"Gomen nasei!" I uttered quick but sincere apology as I re-cleaned to wound on the soldier. For the first time I glanced at the faces of the samurai- the all looked about the same with only minor differences except for the fact that even I must admit that they all are well built. All but one had spiky black hair, that one was bald. One had hair down past his waist and a face similar to the shortest one, whose hair stuck up like a flame or a pinecone. If the short one didn't have so much hair he might be shorter then me.  
  
Come to think of it most of them had the same facial expression expect the one with hair pointing in about seven different directions, he looked almost kind. As I gazed over the line once more I realized two others had hair like that, must be related in some way. I empathize with 'their' women remembering how Yamcha had left me for the army, I can only hope he returns in one piece.  
  
They all appear to be different ages the short one and nice looking one are almost defiantly the youngest and the bald one appears to be the eldest.  
  
~*~  
  
As I followed Izamami out of the room I obtained the sensation of eyes burning my back. I whipped around and saw the room unchanged.  
  
~*~  
  
It was late at night or early in the morning when I returned from a sad excuse for dinner because Izamami had wished that I would check on the warriors again. Truthfully I am exhausted; I have been slaving over a boiling pot to make a type of salve to heal superficial wounds more rapidly. The point of checking up on them I do not see; it would take another few days for anyone to wake up after the conditions they have been exposed to but then again they do appear to heal faster then others I have known. But on the other hand all the others I have known didn't come to Izamami to be healed.  
  
Slowly opening the rice paper door careful not to make a sound as I stuck my lantern in, and gave the room a once over. The only sound was the wind at the window and the deep, slow breathing of the sleeping occupants of the room coming from the sleeping bag shapes on the floor all lined up like something on display. I start to turn around when movement catches my eye- not everyone in the room is asleep. The short one is sitting up- attempting to redo one of his bandages.  
  
"No, no, no!" I sighed out, exasperatedly, as I approached him.  
  
His head whips around and his steely eyes burn contempt in to mine at the frustration of being caught. I grab his arm from him and kneel beside him to assess how much damage he has inflicted on himself. No matter how reluctant he is, he complies.  
  
"It will be fine and set correctly if you don't move it so much, I'll have to bring in some more salve then I expected tomorrow. but it would be best to treat it now to be sure you didn't infect it. I have some more salve that may be ready by now, hold on." I got up and headed blindly for the kitchen where the ointment sat in a large bowl. Squinting through the darkness I spot it sitting innocently on the counter. I stumble over there the best I can.  
  
When I reenter the infirmary I have to squint to see him leaning crossed armed on the wall, my lantern must have burned out. "I have the ointment." I announced as I approached him, guided by moonlight.  
  
"Go away girl, you are not needed."  
  
"Nani?! What do you mean?" He's seriously injured and is about to learn the hard way that a few of his ribs are broken as well as his arm.  
  
"You heard me, slave, tomorrow I will lead myself and the rest of my company away from here." My jaw drops as all fatigue is replaced with my infamous rage.  
  
"What do you mean by that you shouldn't even be standing much less traveling, you alone have three broken ribs and a broken arm! And all your men are far worst off. AND I AM NOT A SLAVE!!!" I screeched at him, the idiot thinks he can leave here without even thanking Izamami-san.  
  
I watch, as his eyes seemed to glow slightly red as the air became denser- even if it was my imagination. I momentarily regret shouting so loudly- the others and Izamami-san might have woken up.  
  
"Girl do you even know to whom you speak?" He uncrossed his arms and started to walk towards me.  
  
If I could actually think clearly when I was torn between rage and terror I would probably have answered that question differently. "No, and I don't really care about that or if your goddamn arm contracts an infection. Go to sleep jack-ass."  
  
I turn swiftly around and walk down the hall to my closet of a room; it is bare save a small cot, a pile of clothing, a leather rucksack and my lantern- shit! I left it in the sick bay. The idea of going back across the hall momentarily crosses my mind but I don't need to risk making myself more enemies today. I collapse almost thankfully on the hard surface of my cot and welcome the dream deprived short 'sleep' that awaited me.  
  
~*~  
  
I awoke to the cruel, bright morning announcing its arrival and eagerness to begin the new day by shining, brightly on my eyelids. Mumbling incoherently to myself, I roll over and wish the sun to go back down for -oh say -a few more years.  
  
Five short minuets later Izamami came urging me out of bed and down to the kitchen. I stumble over to the small pile of fabric I shamelessly dubbed clothing and slip in to my Favourite midnight blue or navy, deepening almost to black, kimono. My mother gave it to me saying it brought out the violet of my hair and mauve of my eyes, I also loved it because it was one of the few things I brought from home.  
  
Standing up I straightens my outfit it the mirror while slipping on my personal insignia: my gold, snake-like armband. Luckily no one but I can see it as it is hidden behind the sleeve of my kimono.  
  
By the time I arrive in the kitchen Izamami is cooking up a storm but before I can help I must do one thing. I promptly wrap a towel around my neck to protect my kimono, walk over to the basin that will momentarily be used for washing dishes and dunk my face in. This made Izamami laugh lightly while successfully waking me up as much as physically possible after my complete three and half-hours of sleep.  
  
"Bulma- chan I don't know why you must do that every morning." she chuckled as she went back to stirring a large pot of ramen, leaving me to cut the fish.  
  
As I grab a large knife from the rack Izamami spoke, "Bulma, one of the samurai woke up sometime ago and seemed to be mumbling something about 'vexing wenches with odd coloured hair'" she shot me a look knowing I'm guilty but not going to confess with only that. "What did you do to him?" That I would confess to, at least a little.  
  
"When I went in to cheek on them last night he was up tampering with his bandages so I told him to quit it because he was making it worse and went to get the salve I made but when I came back he called me a slave and told me to go away and that he was planning of leaving today with the rest of his troop!" I ranted in one breath, more then I wanted to say.  
  
"For some strange reason I think that he would not have been to angry at you for simply attempting to cleanse a lesion of his."  
  
"He was!" I defended, "When I came in with the ointment he told me to go away and that I wasn't needed." It wasn't a complete lie.  
  
Izamami threw me a 'I'm-not-buying-it-tell-the-truth' look and then made me feel like a guilty child caught stealing a cookie in the middle of the night, "if you don't want to tell me why shouting for that wing woke me up last night then don't." her cooled expression turned back to her cooking.  
  
"I'm sorry Izamami- san but after he called me a slave and told me he and the rest were leaving I guess I sort of told him that he was in no condition to leave and neither were his men and I wasn't a slave then he asked if I knew who he was and I don't and he seemed sort of insulted.." I didn't really need to tell her I ordered him to rest; I work here if he doesn't want to get cured that's his problem.  
  
"Bulma, that was the wrong thing to say just because you and I don't know to whom we are attending to is no reason to rub that in their face." Izamami reprimanded, "Now I would like you to go apologize and learn who those young people are."  
  
My jaw must have hit the ground, "NANI!!!!!!????????"  
  
~*~  
  
About half an hour later I slid the door to the infirmary open with three portions of breakfast placed on a tray. Beady, black, shielded eyes snapped up to meat my own azure ones, which immediately swooped down with the thought of apologizing. It just seemed degrading for the daughter of the great Doctor Briefs to lower herself to apologizing, not that I ever wish to see that ass again. But still I must remind my self I am now no longer the daughter of him but only Bulma Catena Briefs ((A/N: Catena Davy is one of our moon's craters)). I haven't the slightest idea how Izamami manages to bend me to her will as if I was her child but I guess within the few months I have spent working here she has almost become that. Though my real mother never even managed to make me sink so low as to feeling guilty for merely yelling at someone.  
  
Inhaling deeply I try to avoid the twin piercing eyes attempting to burn a hole through my skull, "I'msorryforwhatIsaidlastnightandwonderingwhoyouandtheothermenaresoIdon'tmak afoolofselfagain." (TRANSLATION: I'm sorry for what I said last night and was wondering who you and the other men are so I don't make a fool of my self again) I rushed out in a single breath.  
  
I risk a glance at the samurai now with a masked but still clearly shocked face, whatever he had been expecting me to say it wasn't a request for forgiveness. His eyes are slightly widened and mouth cracked ajar a bit, I wonder briefly if I rendered him incapable of speech, but alas all good things but come to a close.  
  
"Vegeta." The hard cold mask was back in place only with a rather arrogant smirk in place; he probably thinks he frightened me in to apologizing- the conceited ass! .. But why does that name sound vaguely familiar? I don't know but I think Yamaha said it to me once.. When?  
  
I suddenly remember my lantern where is it? I look wildly around and spot it in the far corner- with a large dent in its side.  
  
"What did you do to my lantern!" I practically shrieked while running over to retrieve it after putting down the tray, "what did you do? Kick it over here with a metal toe? There is no way I am ever gonna be able to hammer that dent out- you better be able to buy me a new one." I glared at him once I finally stopped ranting. It is quite apparent by the look on his face that any possibility there was of frightening me vanished from is mind.  
  
Before he could answer our attention was draw to a murmuring from the sleeping mat of one of the other samurai; the one with the "kinder" face I believe.  
  
My suspicions are confirmed as he rolls over with a somnolent expression. I was about to see if he had re-injured himself while rolling over but stop as a loud rumbling fills the air.  
  
"What was that!" I asked bewildered.  
  
"Uh. my stomach, sorry but do you have anything to eat, I'm starved." The newly awakened samurai asked while putting his not-broken hand behind his head while plastering on the silliest grin on his face that could melt the hardest hearts.  
  
On that last note I am proven wrong- "Kakarotto, learn to control you hunger will you- its degrading to have a warrior whose stomach could give away our position to any enemy within a ten mile radius."  
  
"Wait! Kaka- what! Kaka-carrot? And Va-get-a? Where the friggin' hell are you guys getting these weird names?" my genius's entire mind was thoroughly perplexed.  
  
"Uh- I dunno, it think my kassan gave it to me but-"  
  
"Kakarotto, learn to shut up as well."  
  
"Gomen, Vegeta."  
  
"Well, if you two are done arguing." I trailed off, Kami, men could be suck bakas. Then the carrot had to spot the tray of food on the floor were I left it, though he made no sound it was obvious because his eyes grew wide and he started to drool. He was so obviously younger then me it was hilarious, and the Vegeta character for that matter.  
  
"Here, eat all you want without moving too much." I startled him out of his dream of eating by sliding the plate forward to the side of his cot. "I'll be right back with some food for you." I informed Vegeta coldly, while trying not to laugh at the way Kakarotto attempting to feed himself with his right hand, which was in a sling and inflexible.  
  
I stumble through my clouded surroundings attempting not to run in to too many walls due to my half-awake state as I make my way to the scullery.  
  
"Back so soon?" Izamami inquired as I slid the door open, what really is annoying about paper walls and doors is you can accidentally fall through them.  
  
"Yea, another woke up." I stumble towards the counter with a tray now complete with sushi was situated on top of it.  
  
I begin to make my way of the door when Izamami's voice stopped me; "your breakfast is on that tray. I want you to join them while eating breakfast."  
  
"Do I have to?" I whine even though I know argument is futile.  
  
"Only if you wish to stay employed." Kuso.  
  
"Can't I just stay here and help you cook? You know I need to work on it." I hope playing little innocent apprentice will work.  
  
"I'm not having my charges be your lab rats."  
  
"Hey! My cooking is not that bad!"  
  
"We will work on it another day"  
  
Defeated I sulk my way out of the room. This is just not my day: start at quarter after midnight, shout at a few people above your station, nap, and wake at dawn, and dine with current adversary. Yup, just what I love to do, right up there with overly perky people in the morning.  
  
Sighing slightly to myself I slide to door open and allow myself in, immediately cold eyes burn my form.  
  
Placing one of the sushi plates on the floor not in the mood for anything warm, I walk over to hand the rest to the one named 'Vegeta.'  
  
"So where did you guys get so beat up?" I decide conversation with them talking is the best way to avoid argument, though I probably could have phrased that better. While I walked over to him I failed to look down and tripped. Vegeta managed to save the food but I fell, backwards, right on to the large bald one.  
  
"Shit!" I rolled of him to figure out what I tripped over in time to see a chocolate- coloured, fuzzy, snake like thing dart beneath Vegeta's blanket. "What the! What was that!" my childlike curiosity spiked, I, not having bothered to stand yet, crawled over to the cot in question and began to lift up the sheet knowing they're all fully dressed.  
  
An entire arm slams down to prevent me from investigating what I tripped over.  
  
"What?! I know you're fully dressed seeing as I would have been allowed in here it you weren't. Not to mention the fact I doubt you want some live animal living in your cot."  
  
"No." Kami, why do men have to be so damn stubborn, at least all the attractive ones?  
  
"If you want some snake living inside much less in your bed, that would be fine but I, however, do not want any living being crawling into my bed." His arm remains barring me from seeing what that snake-like thing was.  
  
"No, slave girl, leave it." He knows he's touching a nerve.  
  
"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU I AM NOT A SLAVE???!!!!" I screech in to his ear watching him wince at the volume. I slam my fist down on his hand. I have no aim, I hit some where between his hip and arm. Vegeta convulses suddenly as if I actually did hit his wounded hand.  
  
"What! I didn't even hit you! What's wrong?" Confusion can change any mood. He's still breathing heavily, attempting to control the pain. Damn it, I didn't mean to hurt him, I didn't think I could.  
  
"Are you ok?" I tentatively voice.  
  
"Girl, leave now." He rasped out between clenched teeth.  
  
~*~  
  
I made my way blindly, and guilty to my closet, leaning against a support beam I sigh to my self- what a fucked up day. What else could go wrong? Scratch that: famous last words.  
  
Now what could that have been? Long, brown, fuzzy, Vegeta doesn't mind. it suddenly clicks. My eyes widen in fear, they are Saiyans!  
  
(End Chapter One)  
  
Well. how was my first chapter? Do you know what? Reviews would really give a lot of motivation to write the next chapter (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, cough, cough). About that whole 'at war' thing -the humans of the country of Chikyuu (yes, I am aware that 'Chikyuu' is earth in Japanese, but its my story so I can do what I want XP) they are fighting the Saiyans of the country Saiya (once again, I know Vegitasei is the saiyan planet but Vegeta isn't the prince so it wouldn't make any sense). The Saiyans could easily beat the humans if they weren't also fighting off Freeza's forces (the Meta- jins) and the human would probably take advantage of the fact the Saiyans are fighting off two sides if they were aware that Freeza existed. I believe this story takes place in a deformed version of ancient Japan but that might change.  
  
I also messed with family trees a bit (if ya hadn't noticed). B and V are teens for now but in a few chapters in comparison to the rest of my fic they aren't for very long.  
  
Please review, even flame me for all I care *grabs fire extinguisher* as long as you tell me exactly what is wrong- constructive criticism. If there are spelling or grammar errors flame my two friends who I blackmailed in to editing this for me, but while I was reading over this I caught a few errors that they missed, so tell me anyway. 


	2. Ignorance is Bliss

~* Regret Nothing *~  
  
By Zaria  
  
"Security is a superstition - it does not exist in nature. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure."  
  
-Helen Keller  
Chapter Two: Ignorance is Bliss  
~*~  
  
(A/N: Three pizza pies and forty fanfics later.)  
  
~*~  
I made my way blindly, and guilty to my room, leaning against a support beam I sigh to my self- what a fucked up morning, who knows about they rest of the day. What else could go wrong? Scratch that: famous last words. I really don't want to know what else the day will bring.  
  
Now what could that have been? Long, brown, fuzzy, Vegeta doesn't mind. it suddenly clicks. My eyes widen in fear; they are saiyans!  
  
The ruthless slaughterers that the whole country of Chikyuu is currently fighting, including my Yamcha! What am I doing hear helping them? I need to tell Izamami, we have to do something.  
  
But. she must already know because she was really the one that dressed all their wounds. I was only allowed to dress arms and heads, not even the chests of guys, just because I am fifteen but I have my own well-built boyfriend.  
  
Why, oh, why didn't she just tell me who they were? Why? Is she covering for them? I feel so much like a child right now, not a felling usually welcomed by me, for one major reason: it imparts the gift of worst-case- scenario seeing even if it is Martians invading the world to sell while killing off everyone in the process. I roll my eyes, oh, the things I had thought up as a child; the thought gives me some comic relief.  
  
Being realistic now. why would Izamami cover for the monkeys? They could have paid her, but they were unconscious. However the people who brought them here weren't. or she could be one? Old people do not wear the most form fitting things, which knows if she could hide a tail in her kimonos?  
  
Inhaling deeply, I try to stem the flow of unreasonable and intolerable thoughts now filling my head. I really need to rest.  
  
Lack of sleep and stress on top of it really cannot be very healthy so you wouldn't expect someone whose job is to heal people to shake you roughly awake. I guess it's my fault I have no will to see the morning in any way shape or form.  
  
I can only hope two things: one; my nap would be dreamless and two; Izamami won't fire me for sleeping on the job.  
  
I practically trip over my cot as I move to lie down on it.  
  
Izamami won't like me falling asleep again.  
  
Damn confusion.  
'Sleep on it.'  
I do.  
~*~  
  
"Bulma?"  
  
"Bulma!" someone's shouting for me.  
  
"Bulma!!!" whose voice is that?  
  
"BULMA!!!" Izamami.  
  
"I'm going to the market; see if anything's new." Ugh, why doesn't she jut ask the damn ass-holes in the other room? They could probably give her a first-hand account of whatever happened.  
  
"Watch the kettle." Isn't she the one that said 'a watched pot never boils?' "Bye! Take care of the samurai!"  
  
Grubbing about bossy, loud hypocrites I dragged myself out of my cot for the second time that morning, Kami, was it only morning?  
  
Praying that it wasn't, I glance at the sundial out side. Only seven.  
  
It was going to be a long, long day.  
  
~*~  
  
When I entered the kitchen to become a pot-watcher an over flowing kettle welcomed me.  
  
"Great, just great, simply marvelous." I sarcastically muttered to my self and any invisible beings around that I would rather be.  
  
No being able to stand the silence pressing in on my ears and not nearly content enough with the perky birds caroling outside the window I began it sing softly "damn the world to hell and see if I give a da-amn-amn-amn-amn" (A/N: this tune would eventually be known as 'Deck the halls').  
  
As I proceeded to mop up the hot water that had extinguished the fire I didn't notice a figure limp up to the doorway and lean against it, well, that was until it spoke.  
  
"I hope, for your sake, that water on the floor was never intended for my lunch."  
  
"Wahhhhhh" I was so shocked that I flipped over and almost landed did land in a puddle that I had failed to mop up as of yet. After glancing at the short ass that had dared to leave his cot I looked down at the water that was literally beneath me.  
  
"Fuck" now glaring at the troll I hissed "Yeah, that was your lunch and if you don't leave me alone I won't bother refilling the damn thing."  
  
"Well, aren't you the little lady." He sneered.  
  
"More so then you - I hope." Honestly are they trying to give me a low opinion of all guys, well Yamcha didn't. Wait a sec, yes he did, but that story was for later.  
  
"That's not saying very much considering the fact you certainly aren't any type of lady I ever heard of."  
  
"Then perhaps you should get out of your testosterone driven, intelligence deprived slave camp more often." I shot back while getting up.  
  
"You're the only slave here."  
  
"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU I AM NOT A SLAVE!?!" I raise my hand to slap that arrogant smirk off his chiseled visage with the wet cloth still in my hand.  
  
"Ah-" my wrist is jarred painfully in the air as he catches my arm effortlessly.  
  
Clenching my teeth in pain I manage to glance at the face of the bastard who refuses to let go of my wrist.  
  
Writhing to get away I manage to glare straight into the empty eyes of my captor. "Let go of me NOW." You could practically taste the venom dripping of my words.  
  
"I will tell you this only once girl." His hushed, murderous voice carries readily over the silent room. "Never." He fluently twist my arm behind my back while spinning me around, catching me is what even I can recognize as a half nelson.  
  
"Never." With each word he speaks he applies more pressure to my twisted arm.  
  
Grinding my teeth together due to the throbbing agony I try not to listen to his hushed words whispered forebodingly in my ear. "Never. Raise. Your. Hand. Against. Me. Again. And. Expect. To. Survive. The. Consequences." He suddenly releases my undoubtedly bruised arm and pushes me to the ground, "Get back to work, girl, I expect my lunch soon." He arrogantly sticks his nose in the air and struts out of the kitchen.  
  
Sputtering in indignation I glare daggers at his retreating back while trying to recall the ingredients for a very strong sleeping potion taught to me earlier last week.  
~*~  
An hour later I attempt to slide the door to the infirmary open with my elbow because my hands are carrying a try piled high with food. It isn't drugged, I decided I wanted to live to see the next day of my pathetic life.  
  
Still battling with the door I realize I have to options: one, the nice little angelic way- put the food on the ground, open the door, carry the food in. But since I am in no way angelic I opt for my other choice.  
  
Knocking my elbow on the frame of the door I shout, "Since you can obviously walk, get your lazy ass over here to pick up your damn food!"  
  
A growl, the sound of footfalls, and uneven sound of unfurnished wood scraping against itself and I am faced with the king of all trolls with polls stuck up their asses'.  
  
Shoving the food at him, though tempted to shove it in his face, I slam the door shut as well as you can slam a sliding door and march away with out a word, ignoring the stream of curses following me.  
~*~  
I carefully sneak my way in to Izamami's room, a talent well practiced by myself- sneaking into places forbidden to me. I step around a loose board, dodge to corner of the dresser and tread carefully over the hidden door. Cautiously rolling up the small bamboo mat and removing the hidden door I stare in awe at the volumes of knowledge that I am not even supposed to exists, much less understand. Seizing a dusty book I silently undo all else I have done.  
  
As I quietly reset the angle of the small bamboo mat the sound of a door closing comes from the opposite side of the house. Izamami is home. I quickly slink across the room with only the flesh on my feet to cushion my footfalls against the wooden floor.  
  
"Bulma-chan! I'm back!" she announces, there is a slight waver in her voice. Ignoring it, I dash down the hall and stuff the heavy book under my pile of clothing.  
  
Panting slightly I try to regain my composure as Izamami, no doubt, comes looking for me. Cooling my flushed face with my bloodless hands I walk to meet her.  
  
I find her piling up the dirty dishes that I was should have cleaned, oops. Looking up from her task at me I notice her eyes full of understanding sorrow.  
  
"Bulma."she begins but trails off. Drying her hands on a sodden terry cloth she reaches into the folds of her obi (A/N: an obi is a large ribbon tied around the waist of a kimono with a large bow in the back) pulling out a folded clipping of newsprint. Handing it to me she whispers, "I'm sorry."  
  
Confused I open the paper, forgetting I'm not supposed to know how to read.  
  
The small bit of old paper contains words that will lead to a series of events altar all known to nigen, Saiya-jin, and Meta-jin kind.  
"Battle near Fuji-yama*  
  
Honshu was attacked by a small ban of Saiya-jins, who, never the less, caused vast damage. The Saiya-jins attacked our encampment of soldiers at aproxemently 2:30 in the morning on the twelfth of June, a Getsuyoobi**. Out of the one hundred men stationed there, at least sixty-four have been reported dead or wounded. An unknown number of samurai have been reported missing. Those confirmed either dead or missing include Fujita Lee, Raffia Xu, Akiyama Xu, Miki Wong, Kuririn*** Chestnut, Yamcha Wolff, Raidon Yang, Shinichi Sho."  
The list went on but I couldn't read anymore because my vision blurred with the tears now running down my face to smear the ink on the parchment.  
  
"Yamcha." a hollow whisper escaped the lifeless figure before Izamami that was me.  
  
The little bit of paper fluttered silently to the floor from my none-to- steady hands. I stare blankly at the place in the air where my boyfriend, my lover, my.hope.where HIS name used to be, disbelieving.  
  
Izamami reaches a hand out for my shoulder, not only to steady me, but also to comfort. The movement catches my attention jarring my from my trance and bringing me painfully to reality. Shocked, disbelieving and horrorstricken I glance at her for one fearful moment before racing out of the room blinded by my tears.  
  
Eventually I find my way to my room, tossing my head wildly, tears splashing down on my silken kimono. I kneel, practically falling down before my rucksack, digging feverishly through it I search almost in vain among the clutter before my hand finally grasps the wide wooden cylinder box and small glass bottle, both wrapped in a thick, protective woolen shawl.  
  
Laying the bottle on the floor I open the sachet first, carefully pulling out the statuette from my prayer dolls that I had received for my thirteenth birthday, only because I was the first child of my father to live that long, and because he didn't want to go back on his bet.  
  
I gently hold the small, glass figure, speaking in a horse whisper words of comfort, for myself, to it. Caressing the black horsehair scalp, the smooth white skin, smoothing the small, formal kimono I think enviously of the charmed life royalty must live.  
  
Clutching my idol of the empress to my chest I sit on my cot slowly rocking back and forth, back and forth, staring blankly at the occasional splash of a salty tear staining my kimono, thinking of everything I cannot change.  
~*~  
After an eternity the tears stopped, my insides settled to an extent and time started moving again. Too soon for my taste. Stretching my legs I walk across my room in two steps to put 'the empress' away in her box, while rearranging the cotton around her I look to the other side of the box to the other figurine I brought- the jester. Unless he wants to be chucked across the room he will stay in there. Once I finally get the cotton to settle correctly, so I can close the lid, I look the other item I took out- the bottle.  
  
Not a hand spans tall, or three fingers in diameter but three-quarters full of a completely clear liquid. Less then a spoonful is needed but I don't have one on hand.  
  
Removing the small cork anyway I wrinkle my nose at the horrible perfume now polluting my nostrils. Ignoring the stench I raise the glass to my lips and kick it back, though only allowing a small bit to pass my lips.  
  
I swallow quickly because the taste is worst then the odor. I do not have long to dwell on that because it is only a few seconds until the blissful sensation of being problem-less fills my head before leaving mind numbing bliss in its wake.  
  
Half consciously in my drunken state, I strenuously put the box and bottle back in my bag before allowing myself to finally- finally falling into the blissful state of unconsciousness.  
~*~  
  
(End Chapter Two)  
* Japanese Word for Mount Fuji  
  
** Monday (Hate 'em)  
  
*** That's Krillen's name as it is spelt in the magna so that's the way I am spelling it.  
  
Well that was an interesting chapter. You learned important things about Bulma, ne?  
  
What you learned you have to find out how it is relevant.  
  
I would like to thank Mariah Ashley for reviewing, here's the next chapter. I finished Beautiful, very good, I like the morbid-ness.  
  
And my pet.wait he's gonna read this (he don't know his nickname, well now he does) umm .err, oh well. O-chan thanks I will be out as soon as it's edited and Kami knows my editors nor I can do that for our lives..  
  
Ok, I confess I didn't Beta-read this chapter that well, any mistakes or confusion please tell me so I can change it. Thank you all. Review, Flame, Let me know you read it! *Still is armed with the Fire extinguisher* Wait a sec why do I have this- I'm a pyro-maniac. *lights black candle* *grin* *is an idiot* I know this was out only a day after the first chapter but that was because I had finished both chapters before I posted one, I have no idea when the third chapter will be out. 


	3. Only Memories Remain

~* Regret Nothing *~  
  
By Zaria  
  
"With each celebration of maturity, there is a pang of loss"  
  
- Louise Erdich  
  
Chapter Three: Only Memories Remain  
  
[A/N: short recap {because the author couldn't choose a part to re- tell, if all else fails- go back and try again.}: we left Bulma in a drug enduced sleep after she found out Yamcha's dead (watches the reader cheer, *sweat drop* uh... *declines further comment*). {Hum, she seems to be falling asleep a lot lately. (Who can tell the author has insomnia?)}]  
  
~*~  
  
My skull was cracking into numerous pieces.  
  
Distantly, very distantly. a sound echoes through the cracks splitting along my head.  
  
A faintly familiar sound.. One that I should recognize.  
  
Opening my eyes a slit, half the size of the one running along my skull, I can see only faded blurs dancing like the ideas at the back of my mind.  
  
Opening my eyes wider I see two inky black specks and a glowing sliver among splotches of different dulled colors.  
  
I blink a few times and try to focus through the layers time has condensed itself in to.  
  
The blur the inky specks are stained on moves a section of itself nearer to me then landed on something near, or far, from my head. I cannot really tell- everything is swaying to some music I cannot hear.  
  
The swirly movement left in the air by the Gray Blur in the air is very.  
  
hypnotizing.  
  
There is a loud, distant clunk that echoes through my mind for a long time giving me time to try to place it..  
  
I cannot. The Gray Blur retreated from where it landed but it left part of itself behind.?  
  
I try to sit up and ignore my protesting mussels against the movement too quickly proceeding after the infusion of poison and alcohol.  
  
Once half seated I look at the piece of itself that the Gray Blur left behind.  
  
With my movement blood started to rush to my head, almost overwhelming me but after awhile the sensation passed and the blurs condensed and time was no longer visible. Though that did nothing to relive my splitting headache.  
  
The part of itself the blur left behind stopped dancing and took on the colour and form of a kocha cup with steam defying gravity to meet my nose.  
  
Because the invisible web of logic and understanding, which suddenly wasn't, now told me to look at what was once known as the Gray Blur, I did.  
  
The inky black specks I had first seen revealed themselves to be the piercing, disapproving eyes of the one person alive whose opinion I valued.  
  
Izamami.  
  
"I."I began but trailed off, not being able to think up a good excuse for my actions or, at least a cover-up. I might have been able to if the blood pounding at my head left room for any other conscious thoughts.  
  
"What you are currently, is beyond the point," she began with a stern, unyielding voice, "it is what you have done."  
  
I slightly bit my lip, dreading what is sure to come and not noticing the way my body seemed to fold up as it slowly, very slowly, began rocking back and forth, back and forth.  
  
"However," She continued what would, undoubtedly, eventually be something a kin to a death sentence in that same hard voice, "what's done is done and that cannot be change. I cannot force you to learn from your mistakes- only hope that these lessons that life teaches will not have to be learned the hard way for you."  
  
I had stopped my slow rocking and, completely disbelieving my luck, looked up at her in utter disbelief.  
  
"Now Bulma," she commanded, " I want you to drink you kocha* and report to the kitchen with empty cup in hand, then you will proceed with the bear remainder of the day as usual. In other words the tea will make you feel better and I wish to hear none of you complaining on that or any other matter for the rest of the day." With lips pulled tight and loose cheeks gaunt and that final word she spun on her heal and walked out of the room.  
  
I stared blankly after her for a while, for how long I couldn't tell because of my skewed perspective on time and, well, life in general.  
  
~*~  
  
Eventually I moved again, to raise the fragile cup and saucer to my bite- scared lips.  
  
Not kicking the glass back yet I inhale the steam while trying not to fall back into my mattress as the steam dispels the headache and mends the metaphorical rips in the side of my head.  
  
However the poison I had willingly imbibed did nothing to help my memory.. I couldn't even remember why I had taken the damn thing.  
  
Drawing my eyebrows together in contemplation I attempt to remember what exactly what had occurred to arise such misery in the sheltered life I now live.  
  
What had I been doing beforehand?  
  
Furrowing my eyebrows on thought I concentrated all my energy on my memory skills.  
  
I . I was breaking a rule of a sort, some reliable memory- that little clue didn't help in the slightest, I was always working in secret- disregarding every rule in the book.  
  
Looking around the dimly lit single roomed closet I call my own I knew only all to well I see someone, namely Izamami, had tidily up. The clothes were folded and, along with my rucksack, against the wall. along with a thick book.. A book?  
  
Why did I have a book here? And why was it out in the open?  
  
Oh.  
  
I had 'borrowed' it from Izamami and when she had cleaned my roomed my room, probably out of boredom, she had found it. Kuso. Deep kuso.  
  
When I had taken it out of her room I had almost been caught, so I hid it under my clothes and . and.  
  
Damn, what had happened? One day I will learn to write things down but until then I have to work on my memory skills.  
  
Let me see. Izamami had come back from the market with news. someone had died. or been injured.  
  
I strained my memory to recall what had happened, I couldn't even remember past hiding the book without the world lurching beneath my feet.  
  
Raising the glass with shaking hands to my parched lips and silently sipping the scolding contents, ignoring the way the liquid oddly contrasting with my mood.  
  
~*~  
  
After a long while my only excuse for avoiding society was drained along was the glass in my shaking hands. Slowly stretching my legs, ignoring the brittle sounds as the joints began to grow re-accustom to movement; also ignoring the way the entire house was acting as a ship in a storm tossed sea. I began to make my way to the food for my body had gone so long without it - judging by the moon slightly illuminating the room with an eerie, unearthly glow the cast ghastly shadows in every corner.  
  
The kitchen was not empty, as I had expected, Izamami was sweating over a large boiling pot and she feverishly added ingredients while also trying to reread the recipe in on of her larger hand-written books.  
  
Immediately some emotion a kin to guilt and pity overcame me as I rushed to her side willing, for once, to do the job I had been hired to do.  
  
~*~  
  
Three hours later I could be found lost in the fray of ingredients flying through the steam clogged room.  
  
"Izamami-san?" I panted into the thick air impairing my respiratory system, vision and brain, "could. we per-perhaps call it quits for the night?" my voice squeaked slightly on the word 'night' as to prove my fatigue was genuine.  
  
Even through the impenetrable steam I could still see the still disapproving eyes glowing with the dim light of the fire.  
  
"At least break.?" I pleaded, growing desperate.  
  
I squinted in her general direction, wondering if I was imagining the swilling motion of the steam around her short figure.  
  
I stumbled into the side of the basin full of soapy water as my surroundings seemed to swirl around my head.  
  
Collapsing into an exhausted heap on the worn floor I think only of everything out of my reach.  
  
Sleep.  
  
Yamcha.  
  
Freedom.  
  
Yamcha.  
  
Quiet.  
  
Yamcha.  
  
Peace.  
  
A foot prods my side, urging me to get up. Groaning and willing myself the energy to move from my none-too-comfortable position on the ground, I look up past the feet, the wrinkles in the shawl, past the bosom, past the broaches and flared nose, and look into piercing dark eyes.  
  
Flinching, I look almost completely away, leaving one eye squinted open and the rest of my upper body tenses in preparation for the barrage of reprimands commenting on every flaw in my being- there were many. I just haven't bothered to count them all yet.  
  
With that last note of my perfect being being flawed I too flare my nostrils and clench my teeth in determination.  
  
But the words uttered next were not my own - they had a much greater impact on me then any words I could utter, or would have had Izamami been a little less cryptic.  
  
"You're not going." It wasn't a question, it wasn't even a statement; it was more of a demand.  
  
"Pardon? No going- where? To sleep on the ground?" what is she thinking? Sitting up I continued "Such was never my intention, ya know. It was my intention, however, to collapse out of not having eaten anything all day. I'm not anorexic, I do need to eat- just never got the chance."  
  
I then chose to personify 'spoiled brat' by crossing my legs and arms, sticking my nose in the air and frowning like a caricature.  
  
Her glare burned my form for a few seconds that were filled with the sound of her teeth slowly grinding together before a sigh and defeated "fine go wash up I'll fix something to eat."  
  
My whole mood brightened. "Thanks." I sang out before heading to the wash room.  
  
~*~  
  
I quietly opened the creaky door and glanced once around the small moonlit room before scampering away to fetch a candle . or twelve.  
  
Returning to the still eerie building a good twenty feet [about seven meters] separated by a stretch of bare land with only a worn down path leading to it.  
  
I tried not to stumble as I made my way down the rock path and succeeded. Though my triumph did not to quash my misgivings about the rickety building that contained nothing but a pump, small wash basin and somewhere where you might heat the water - the outhouse was a separate building.  
  
Closing the door behind me with my foot I kneel down and drop the candles, rag, flint, and tinder trying not to break a single candle, they were more expensive then I could afford to pay back.  
  
I lit one while attempting not to set the dry building alight also and proceeded to drip enough wax one the floor to hold up a candle, place one in the make-shift holder and light that candle. and repeated it six time until I ran out of candles.  
  
Standing straight and surveying my handy work I gathered as much energy left in me and marched up to the pump and bucket.  
  
~*~  
  
An hour later my aching arms were attempting to lift the second to last bucket I had to pump over to the rest to the cold water all the while wishing I had time to heat it up.  
  
Leaving the last bucket of water by the side of the raised tub I let my clothes cascade to the ground letting the cold breeze floating through the planks of wood sheltering me from the bare elements from outside tickle my skin.  
  
Not entirely enjoying the sensation I scurried over the washtub and dipped one toe into the slightly illuminated water by the moonlight creeping through the rafters and the dim light by the bunt down candles.  
  
A wave of goosebumps sweep over my body, now shivering slightly I slip into the cold liquid.  
  
Only briefly regretting the fact I couldn't heat the water I slipped into the cool, soothing liquid- Ignoring the fact the as soon as I entered the tub it overflowed for my own mental health and how the back ridge of the metal basin pressed sharply into my back.  
  
Not being to put off by the frigid water, mostly because- though no mater how mush I dreamed of warm baths, in reality I had only had one- when I was eight. Even though it may have been my young, innocent, naive mind that had made the memory so enjoyable but I still savor it as a starved man might a last scrap of food.  
  
Taking refuge in that blissful memory.. The silent waking, my mother's face smiling, the sneaking, the moment when I realized my father was gone for the day.  
  
.And the games and singing that had followed.  
  
.And the bath..  
  
I would always remember that bath- the blissful warm enveloping my body, the soothing sent of bath salts, my mother there talking and laughing, all the while heating water to warm the bath. All that innocence compiled into one day.  
  
It had been perfect.  
  
No father.  
  
No schedule.  
  
Just freedom and family, or rather motherly love.  
  
That night I had gotten to sleep with only music my mother played to help me drift to sleep.  
  
Not the usually yelling and screaming, no accusations, and no abuse. I had thought then that my father had gone away to a neighboring business, now I knew better.  
  
Putting any thought of that, that . words could not describe the ire and disgust I felt towards that man.  
  
Humming the same repetitive tune my mother played that night to sooth my anger directed at, as far as I was concerned, a man whom never existed.  
  
Replaying the memory of that day in my mind, I groped for the rough bar of soap- relishing the course feeling against my skin.  
  
~*~  
  
(End chapter three)  
  
* Tea in Japanese according to O-Kun's friend  
  
*Blinks* what did I do now?  
  
Well, I am sorry, no Veggie this chapter! *Dodges rotten vegetables... err. fruit* as long as it's not canned rotten . fruits.?  
  
*Well armed reader chucks a can of rotten fruits (do they exist. O.o?) *  
  
Owwwwww- ( @ . @ )  
  
*Attempts to follow the birds flying around head*  
  
*Faints* X-X  
  
*Editor: presses the 'reload' button at the top of the page. *  
  
*Zaria stands up rubbing head* Ow! ( #_^;; )  
  
Hey! Would you rather my have ranted of for another five pages?  
  
Veggie WILL be in the next chappie!  
  
Hey if Ya don't believe me then come back when I update (this time without any week-long-no-writing-breaks)!  
  
In fact I even have an update list now ^_^! THANK YOU SOOOO- MUCH KELLY FOR THE GREAT IDEA!!! ^_^She gets all the credit for that one! If you want to be added just email me at:  
  
Zaria_is@hotmail.com  
  
Or just leave your email address in a review, I'll do the rest..  
  
Feel free to do to the lower left-hand corner, press the 'go' button and send me a review (at lest one of the windows that pops up is the review box)[you wouldn't believe how long it took me to figure that one out]!!!  
  
Or a life.  
  
I could use one of those.  
  
Shout outs:  
  
Tara - Glad ya liked. if you thought last chappie was sad just wait and see what I'm gonna do with the rest of this fic ~_^. (next time I'll give ya 2 copies to edit when you lose the first one, lol)  
  
O-Kun - don't go over inflate our ego about being a editor of mine- I have two other and myself (but Kami knows how good well I spell and how good I am at grammar) XP  
  
Amy - Really?! Wow. Is that hard? Thanks!  
  
LiXxy - lol, alright- I read it, I read it. No need to bite my head off.  
  
Kelly - I thank you again for that brilliant idea of an update list! ^_^ 


End file.
